


Footloose and Fancy-Free

by teatales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Aromantic, Asexuality Spectrum, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Queer Themes, Queerplatonic Relationships, Romance, Smut, we have something for everybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatales/pseuds/teatales
Summary: All of my drabbles for the Ineffable Wives Femslash February 2021 prompts!Ratings and orientations various, all details in chapter summaries. Some chapters are explicit in nature (the majority are not) and are marked accordingly.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 24
Collections: Ineffable Wives Femslash February 2021





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [die_traumerei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/gifts).



> Welcome to Femslash February! For most (if not all) of the days this month I will be posting a drabble each and every day featuring versions of female-presenting Aziraphale and Crowley. Most will be post-canon, many of the chapters will include some aspec identities, some will be explicit, and each drabble will be at least 250 words. Please see each chapter for specific details in the starting notes and please subscribe if you would like daily updates!
> 
> This is a gift for the wonderful die_traumerei, who is both an amazing author and a lovely person! Die's fics have brought me so much joy and, since I don't know when I'll get around to writing the fic that I _actually _want to dedicate to them, I thought a month of lesbians would temporarily suffice. I hope you like it ❤️ Thank you for everything from the very bottom of my little aro heart.__

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley was the first thing she had ever loved. [G]

Crowley was the first thing she had ever loved.

Of course Aziraphale loved the Lord. That was a given. She had been created for that.

But she had been made to love Crowley.

Aziraphale had loved the humans too - worried about them, found them endlessly fascinating from her post at the Eastern Gate. She loved all the creatures in the Garden. All of that came naturally to her.

Then there was Crowley. Or Crawley rather, back in the day.

She had slithered up the wall right up to Aziraphale, transforming from a gorgeous serpent into an impossibly beautiful demon.

Demons weren’t supposed to be beautiful, were they?

Aziraphale knew she wasn’t meant to interact with them outside of a strictly smiting context, but… The haphazardly thrown together _Ineffable Guide to Earth and the Occupants Therein_ hadn’t exactly prepared her for making conversation with the Enemy.

But the problem hadn’t been the conversation. Perhaps Aziraphale might have been able to handle that, even with a demon.

She loved Crawley. It wasn’t even an emotion she properly knew how to feel, yet, as young as she had been. Aziraphale hadn’t yet known the highs and lows and heartbreak and elation. Yet it was there all the same. Innocent and inexperienced, unaware of all the trials to come, ignorant as to what it would all mean, an angel loved a demon.

And they would come to save the world.


	2. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley didn’t much like her eyes, but the paperwork would’ve been far too much of a headache for her to change them. [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> light angst, body image issues

Crowley didn’t much like her eyes, but the paperwork would’ve been far too much of a headache for her to change them. She didn’t even know if they _would_ change with a different corporation, with her inherent snakiness and all. She was kind of stuck.

At first she hadn’t minded her body. The success of the temptation wouldn’t have been possible in any other form, after all. But innocence soon faded as the world spun on and the Great Plan seemed like a load of bollocks a lot of the time.

Crowley’s eyes made it difficult to blend in, too. That and the patches of scales that dotted her body always marked her as different. Demonic. Fallen. Some people didn’t much mind - children who hadn’t yet been taught to judge difference were the easiest to get along with.

But Crowley spent a lot of time alone.

She didn’t like Hell, that was for sure, but she also didn’t want to risk discorporation by scaring easily spooked humans. Aziraphale, the angel, was hard to keep track of in the early days. There was so much to learn and see and do. So many to heal. Veils and glasses and miracles helped, some.

It was hard not to feel like her eyes, bright yellow sclera and misshapen pupils, branded her with damnation. It was hard to forget the pain of being cast out when the reminder stared back at her in any reflection she happened upon.

Over the millennia Crowley reclaimed her body, and her sense of self. Even the parts she hid away. Even the parts that made her _want_ to hide away.

But Aziraphale cut through all of that, as deft as she had been with a sword, once upon a time. Asked to see her eyes, asked to see _Crowley._ Called her lovely and beautiful and handsome.

And really, how bad could her eyes be, when they let her see her angel?


	3. Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s presence twinged at the edge of Aziraphale’s consciousness but she continued on reading. [G]

Crowley’s presence twinged at the edge of Aziraphale’s consciousness but she continued on reading. She was just getting to the good part, where the librarian was telling the princess that she loved her back, when a thud came at the other end of the sofa.

It was a very distinctive, dramatic thud of a certain demon who wanted attention.

Aziraphale’s eyes remained fixed on the page, following the librarian running through the castle to her love.

It was easy enough to tell when Crowley _needed_ attention versus when she wanted it. Aziraphale’s ethereal connection (which Crowley called her ‘angelness’) meant she had a good, if imperfect, idea as to when Crowley was hurt or upset. Aziraphale would never intentionally ignore her then.

But she could tell that her demon was playing, almost. It was a game between them, really. The back and forth of feigned ignorance. _Oh, I didn’t expect to see_ you _here_ repeated time and time again throughout the centuries. The pursuit, the chase. The idea of which had warmed Aziraphale throughout many a lonely night.

So she kept her gaze down and bided her time.

Crowley made an indignified “hmmph!” from the other end of the sofa and shifted closer. Aziraphale couldn’t concentrate on much, now, as she wanted to properly take in the love confession, so did her best to memorise the paragraph she was finishing on.

Crowley shifted closer still, carely sliding across the upholstery in a way she clearly thought was subtle.

(It was not.)

When she was close enough to no doubt jump on Aziraphale as she had planned, Aziraphale flung her book into the chair opposite and pounced on her love before she could move.

Crowley let out a startled laugh as she was pinned to the sofa and her arms came up to hold Aziraphale tight around her lovely wide bum.

“I got you!” Aziraphale cried, victorious.

Crowley only gave her a sappy smile in return. “You got me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'book' Aziraphale is reading is actually @die_traumerei's [The Princess and the Librarian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647866/chapters/59552839), which is a wonderful femslash series and if you haven't already I would highly recommend checking it out!


	4. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tapped her foot and glanced at the clock on the mantel again, for the dozenth time in five minutes. [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is some sort of human/fantasy AU set somewhere in a cabin in the forest. Aziraphale is a handsome butch lumberjack who has had [our modern/mortal equivalent of] top surgery

Crowley tapped her foot and glanced at the clock on the mantel again, for the dozenth time in five minutes. She sighed, wrapping her shawl tighter around herself as she strode to the door. She braced for what was to come as she through the door open and was immediately blasted by the chilly air.

“Aziraphale!” She called out the figure who was chopping wood in the distance. “You better get your arse in her immediately or I won’t kiss you for a week!”

The axe came down and split the block in two. Aziraphale put it with the others in the leather holder and tucked the axe into her belt.

Crowley merely crossed her arms and did her best to appear as disgruntled as she felt.

In all honesty, she wasn’t _that_ peeved that Aziraphale had spent longer than she promised chopping wood. Crowley knew how necessary it was with winter creeping in. But if she couldn’t cuddle with her wife in front of a fire in this blasted weather, when could she?

Aziraphale made her way over, wood thrown against her back and looking handsome as ever in her usual flannel. It was quite the scene, Crowley’s wife against the woodland backdrop, ambling toward her.

Crowley nodded and turned on her heel to ensure that the fire was stoked and the kettle full. She felt rather than observed Aziraphale as she the wood and axe away in their nearby shed. It was one of those things that came with a long marriage. 

As soon the door was shut and Aziraphale was empty handed, Crowley wasted no time in corralling her to sit next to the fire.

“Darling, I’m not even cold.”

Crowley ignored that statement. Any regular person who had been out in that weather should feel cold.

“Really, I’m fine. The chopping kept me warm,” she protested again.

Fortunately she complied with Crowley’s directions and ended up with a blanket over her shoulders, sat in front of the roaring hearth. Crowley tucked herself into Aziraphale’s side.

They watched the fire for a few minutes and Crowley started to feel better. Winter hadn’t truly even arrived and so she had little to worry about with Aziraphale being outdoors. But she had felt… lonely, she supposed, in their cabin without her. The change in weather often made her feel as such.

Another couple of minutes passed and Aziraphale’s shifting turned into outright movement.

“Now I am far too warm, my dear,” she announced, throwing off the blanket and reaching for her shirt buttons.

Crowley gathered the blanket into her lap and watched on with interest.

Quickly the shirt was opened and thrown off to one of the nearby chairs. Aziraphale sighed and leaned back on her hands, now clad only in a tight white vest. The peaks of her nipples were visible through the material that skimmed her flat chest and clung to her round belly. Crowley clutched tighter at the blanket.

Aziraphale tipped her head up for a few moments then stretched her neck to either side. She then returned to her previous position and picked up her left arm in the other and stretched. The flex of her muscles meant Crowley involuntarily let out a squeak.

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Instead, she kept stretching. “You were right, darling. The fire has done me some good. My arms feel less sore, certainly.”

She then lifted her arms above her head and the vest lifted with it to reveal a strip of stomach and a trail of golden hair leading down.

Crowley abruptly shot up, not wanting to be caught out with her arousal. She had meant to be stern, damn it! But one look at her handsome wife and she forgot any of her previous intentions. 

“I, uh, massage! Your shoulders, let me?”

Aziraphale blinked up at her then her face smoothed out into a delighted smile. “That would be lovely.”

Crowley prayed her flush could be excused by the fire and stood up behind Aziraphale. She then thought better of the neck-straining angle and sat down once more.

Crowley tried to rub at the aching muscles without getting too distracted but she was a goner. Aziraphale smelled like snow and sweat and wood, the heady combination flowing freely with her this close. The light of flame danced along her bare skin and Crowley had many more ideas on her mind other than proper massage technique.

After what could have been a few minutes or hours, Crowley was too in her fantasies to be sure, her hand was stopped by one of Aziraphale’s own.

Aziraphale turned around enough to face Crowley. Her look wasn’t one of displeasure but rather one of the opposite persuasion.

Crowley leaned in - how could she not? - and met her in a kiss.


	5. Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been Aziraphale’s idea, as most sentimental drivel was. [G]

It had been Aziraphale’s idea, as most sentimental drivel was. Tossing coins in the fountain like so many had before. Crowley wasn’t one for making wishes and anything to do with coins was too often an opportunity for Aziraphale to practice her ‘magic’ tricks.

But still, she loved her wife and she could appreciate the art of the historic city, so she went. It wasn’t too much of a hardship to walk along in the heat of the afternoon with a pretty lady on her arm, anyway. Even if Crowley did grumble about the amount of walking she had been made to do on this supposed holiday. She'd much rather laze about the pool and enjoy the sight of Aziraphale in her bathers. 

Fortunately there weren’t _too_ many people gathered around the historic landmark. Perhaps that had something to do with the street festival across town that just happened to coincide with their trip? In any case, it was a few minutes until they reached the true edge of the fountain.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale expectantly when they got there. “Go on, then,” she said, wanting to get through the inevitable.

Aziraphale gave a pleased wiggle which was most distracting in her low cut dress and reached behind Crowley’s ear. It took a moment and then a coin was _somehow_ in her hand. Who would have thought?

Crowley tried to keep a straight face but the angel looked so happy with herself she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank you, angel,” Crowley said with the tone of a spouse who had grown used to such quirks.

She took the coin in her hand and both of them turned to face the trickling water.

“What will you wish for, my dear?” Aziraphale asked next to her.

Crowley thought about it, then threw the coin in a high arc. It landed with a splash.

“I have everything I need.”


	6. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s body had always fascinated Aziraphale. [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> referenced sexual activity

Crowley’s body had always fascinated Aziraphale. It was so different from her own. Where she was fat, Crowley was thin. Where she was on the shorter side, Crowley was long and leggy. Their colouring clashed - white hair on red, blueish and yellow eyes - but it worked for them.

Alright, so it wasn’t _entirely_ scientific curiosity. Crowley’s form had captivated Aziraphale’s attention long before she knew the ins and outs of lust and attraction. She was just… drawn to her. Entirely like a moth to a flame.

Knowing Crowley and _knowing_ Crowley, in all senses biblical and otherwise, were two entirely different concepts. Once the apocalypse was avoided, Aziraphale thoroughly and enthusiastically dedicated herself to the latter.

It would take her a good many years for Aziraphale to know Crowley’s corporation as well as her own. It would take even longer, hopefully never, for her to stop being delighted at every new discovery she made.

Fortunately for her, Crowley was as equally occupied with learning all she could about Aziraphale’s body. They truly were ineffably matched. Still, it took Aziraphale quite by surprise when she woke up one day to find Crowley covered in smatterings of freckles.

She considered it for a moment as Crowley roused. Perhaps she had decided to add the details in her sleep? Aziraphale didn’t know if that was possible. Crowley stirred and blinked up at her confused hovering.

“Angel? What’s up?”

Crowley sat up and her gaze followed Aziraphale’s to her exposed stomach and the freckles that dotted its surface.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked. “Did you miracle freckles in your sleep, dear?”

“Wha-? No. They’re from, ah,” Crowley glanced away, face and chest suddenly flushed. “Well. You.”

Aziraphale sat down on the bed. “Me?”

Then she remembered what they had done _before_ they had fallen asleep.

“Oh! Good heavens!” She covered her mouth with her hand. She didn’t know kissing would lead to _this_. It hadn’t ever been covered in any of Heaven’s Handbooks™!

“Oh, Crowley I _am_ sorry, I wouldn’t ever change your form without your consent. I simply didn’t know!”

Crowley looked back and gathered Aziraphale in her arms. “Shh, angel, it’s alright, really. Even if you did know, I wouldn’t mind. I love it when you kiss me, hmm?”

Aziraphale sniffled a little against Crowley’s neck. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah,” Crowley brushed a kiss against her curls. “I get to carry you with me wherever I go now, hmm? A little more classier than a bite mark, not that I don’t love those.”

Aziraphale chuckled and sat up slightly, still held against Crowley of course. She carefully traced over a collection of freckles on Crowley’s collarbone.

“That’s a lovely thought, darling. They are quite cute, I have to admit. They even look like stars, in a way,” she said, face crinkling with delight.

Crowley kissed the top of her head once more. “Guess we’re both star-makers, then.”


	7. Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m thinking about a change,” Aziraphale announced from where she was sat in front of her vanity. [G]

“I’m thinking about a change,” Aziraphale announced from where she was sat in front of her vanity.

Crowley slumped off the bed and ambled over, wrapping her arms around her wife’s shoulders.

“Yeah?”

Aziraphale frowned deeper and moved her head one way, then the other. “Yes. I think I might grow my hair.”

Crowley bent down to put her face next to Aziraphale’s and looked at them both in the glass. “Sounds good, if you want.”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the enthusiasm, dear.”

Crowley stuck her tongue out at her. “ _Angel._ You know I think you’re beautiful whether you have short hair or long or none or if you’re covered in dozens of eyes. If you want a change, go for it.”

Aziraphale’s face shifted into that fond, sappy look she gave Crowley whenever she said something sincere.

“Thank you, darling. You’re very sweet.”

Crowley waved her and her own embarrassment off. “Yeah, yeah.”

Aziraphale frowned again at her reflection, this time in concentration, and it only took a moment for her short crop of curls to suddenly fall at her shoulders. The curls had been straightened some to be smoother and more uniform as they fell into a distinctive 1950s style.

Both of them examined the new style.

“It’s very-”

“I-”

“You go first, angel,” Crowley insisted.

“I don’t think I like it at all. My ears are covered and it tickles my neck and oh, really, Crowley?”

Crowley couldn’t help but burst into laughter. She had meant what she said about loving Aziraphale whatever she looked like but it certainly was… different. She had thought she might have had to pretend to really love it so Aziraphale wouldn’t feel bad.

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale. It’s just that we were thinking the same thing and, well. There are other styles?” She tried to offer to keep the peace.

“Hmmph!” With a click Aziraphale’s hair had returned to its usual length. She stood from her chair and swung Crowley up into her arms.

“Oi!”

“I’ll show you ‘other styles’,” she threatened.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Crowley cackled as she was thrown on the bed.


	8. Blush [E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could her love take her apart so easily? [Contains explicit sexual content]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> praise kink, dirty talk, use of the word 'cunt'

Crowley settled behind her, arms wrapped under Aziraphale’s breasts and breath hot on her neck. Aziraphale did her best not to squirm under the attention, as much as she wanted to speed things up.

Crowley nipped at her shoulder and a shiver ran through her. How could her love take her apart so easily?

Aziraphale’s legs spread wider as Crowley’s hands grazed the open cup bra.

“ _Please,_ Crowley,” she whined as clever fingers circled her nipples.

“Very good, angel,” Crowley murmured in her ear. “You may begin.”

Aziraphale’s hand all but shot down to her cunt as Crowley finally granted some relief and pinched at her stiff nipples. She moaned as she gathered up the slick and teased her clit.

“Fuck, angel. I love you like this. Positively gagging for it.” Aziraphale felt her chest grow warm under the praise and her fingers pressed more firmly.

Crowley tugged at her nipple again, the other hand coming down to dip into Aziraphale’s hole.

“You’re so wet for me. Good girl,” she said as she slipped one finger in.

Aziraphale sobbed and threw her legs wider in an attempt to angle the finger where she needed it most.

“Does my angel need more?”

“Please, please, please,” Aziraphale begged as she rubbed at her clit. She ached with how empty she was. All she could think about was Crowley being inside her.

“Of course, when you ask so prettily.” Crowley pressed another finger deeper into Aziraphale and sucked at her neck.

Aziraphale groaned and her fingers moved faster. She was almost there.

“Your so pretty, darling. All pink and flushed like this. All mine.” With that, Crowley fucked her with a third finger.

The stretch was delicious, exactly what Aziraphale needed and with a few more strokes of her clit she came in great, shuddering gasps.


	9. Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley stomped in from the garden and groaned as she bent down to take off her boots. [G]

Crowley stomped in from the garden and groaned as she bent down to take off her boots. The effort now would save a scolding later if she tracked mud through the house, but still. Weeding wasn’t exactly easy work and her back really wanted her to know it.

She glanced around the kitchen, expecting an angel and finding it empty instead. Aziraphale had mentioned something about making jam that afternoon but of course it wouldn’t be the first time she had become distracted by something or other.

Crowley walked down the hall to the main sitting room. She wasn’t there either. There were a collection of empty mugs but those could have been from any day, really.

“Aziraphale?” She called out to see if she was still on the ground floor. There wasn’t an answer.

Crowley turned and hummed to herself as she climbed the stairs. Aziraphale was probably sealed away in the library and hadn’t heard her.

Crowley opened the door and blinked in the dark room. But Aziraphale wasn’t there either.

“Angel?” She tried again as she moved along to their bedroom. Aziraphale only really spent time in there at night and immediately after she woke up (or longer, if Crowley could persuade her), but anything was possible these days. Look at her, a retired demon playing house in the South Downs, of all things.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley poked her head in the door, half-expecting Aziraphale to have gotten peckish and walked down to the pub for a late lunch. But she was there.

What was unusual was that she was curled up in the chair by the big window, snoring.

Crowley snorted to herself and closed the door quietly behind her. A napping angel, she thought she’d never see the day.


	10. Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Angel, _you’re_ the one who’s been talking about this show for months. If you make us late after all that-” [Explicit sexual content]

“Angel, _you’re_ the one who’s been talking about this show for months. If you make us late after all that-”

Aziraphale got on her knees in the backseat foot-well and raised an eyebrow at her flustered wife. “We’ll be more late if you _don’t_ let me get you off right now.”

Crowely clicked her teeth shut and slowly opened her legs.

“Good,” Aziraphale said and ducked under the long, black dress.

She hadn’t _exactly_ been lying but she knew she had to make this quick. She wasted no time in miracling Crowley’s pants somewhere far away and throwing her long legs over her shoulders.

Aziraphale licked a stripe up the hairless seam and reveled in the salty taste. She knew Crowley had been bluffing and that she did, in fact, want to get off. She just didn’t want to put up with Aziraphale’s potential complaining if the did indeed end up being late.

Aziraphale put the ticking clock out of her mind as she dragged Crowley closer to her waiting mouth. 

* * *

"A new record, I think," Aziraphale announced as they took their seats.

"Yeah, but now I can't feel my legs," Crowley grumbled next to her as she gently lowered herself down onto the worn velvet. 

Aziraphale turned to her and batted her eyes, her dress drooping to reveal more of her cleavage as she leaned in. "I'll make it up to you later, dear." 

Crowley flushed and said nothing as the orchestra began to play, although her eyes lingered for a few moments longer on the expanse of bare skin. Aziraphale smiled to herself, most pleased.


	11. Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s hair had always been remarkable. [T]

Crowley’s hair had always been remarkable.

Since the Fall, no one in Heaven stood out so much, with such a bright colour on their head. They were meant to be a collective and that meant warm neutrals, for the most part. This corporation had been right for Aziraphale, even if her white hair seemed a little strange among the humans.

But Crowley stood out wherever she went. At least to Aziraphale she did. Aziraphale had spent millennia being drawn to her through crowded streets and parties. That flame-haired demoness, intriguing and frustrating in turn.

Aziraphale had loved it when it was long. Of course, she would never presume to dictate what Crowley did with her corporation, so she rarely mentioned it. But there had been so much of it, long curls like dancing fire. Aziraphale had spent many a lonely night imagining what it might feel like to run her hands through it. To brush it, to braid it, among other things that left her aching and hot.

Crowley, unlike her, changed with the times. Where Aziraphale kept her curls short and cropped (even when it was deemed unfashionable by some) Crowley’s expression moved seamlessly as the planet spun on.

And then, one afternoon after an aborted apocalypse and the getting together of an angel and demon, both seemingly impossible and ineffable in turn, Crowley’s hair started to grow.

Aziraphale noticed instantly. She had spent a great deal of her existence dedicated to cataloguing every last millimetre of her wife. She could tell when the long bob started to reach more firmly toward her shoulders.

The angel smiled to herself. It wouldn’t do to mention it until Crowley had, lest she get self conscious. But it was a lovely change all the same. Especially when they had the time for her to do it the human way.

Yes. All the time in the universe.


	12. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, the gavotte wasn’t the only dance a certain angel was capable of. [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to all my aro spec and ace spec readers, you're great

Contrary to popular belief, the gavotte wasn’t the only dance a certain angel was capable of.

It was certainly her favourite and she mourned the loss of it falling out of fashion til this very day, but one couldn’t possibly have survived among the humans so long without picking a move or two.

Even when she had been male-presenting and more often than not disguised herself as a member of the clergy, Aziraphale couldn’t opt out of the social obligation altogether. Particularly if she required information that only could be found through the time old-tradition of gossiping and rumour-mongering.

Yes, Aziraphale had danced many a dance during her stationing on earth. But as the years went on and decorum was on a decline, she found herself not enjoying the act as she once did. She preferred those of yesteryear, with instrumental music and known steps. Not surging together in a dark, sweaty room with people assuming a dance meant a certain kind of interest. Where a dance was an indication of desire.

As Aziraphale had come to find throughout her existence, and especially after they stopped the implosion of the world, Crowley was the exception to it all.

Crowley didn’t assume what Aziraphale felt. She didn’t construct a series of check-boxes in her mind that the angel was certain to fail. She was patient, and kind, and all the things she hated Aziraphale reminding her of. She waited and took only as much as Aziraphale was capable of giving. And it was enough for her.

So during their aptly if a little ridiculously named retirement, Aziraphale found herself dancing more than she ever had before.

She would come to deliver a glass of something sweet and cool to Crowley while she gardened and would be spun around on her journey back to the house.

As Aziraphale tried and failed and tried again to recreate her favourite dishes in their enormous kitchen, Crowley would latch on to her back and sway with her to the radio.

And when nights turned colder and Aziraphale wanted nothing more to be rugged up with her friend, they would hold one another close and dance in front of the fire. They barely moved their feet. The only music playing was in soft, barely-there hums. But they embraced. And Aziraphale was enough.


	13. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Day 14] Crowley knew what the village thought of them. [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped yesterday's prompt because I couldn't finish my drabble for, so the chapter numbering will be off from now on. And if you thought I wouldn't write both of them as aroace for this date, you don't know me at all

Crowley knew what the village thought of them. It was funny, how usually two presumably single women cohabitating together were never thought of in a romantic context. But there must have been something in the water here for everyone to assume that she and Aziraphale were married, when that wasn’t _quite_ the case.

If they distilled their relationship down to something comprehensible for human understanding sure, it might seem that way. Two middle-aged ladies who had known each other forever, sharing a life and a house (it wasn’t a cottage, no matter what Aziraphale told you), with a penchant for pet-names.

But neither of them were particularly inclined that way.

Yes, they both loved each other. They were each other’s “person”, to borrow a phrase from the young people. But romantic love and sexual attraction weren’t part of this equation.

It suited Crowley and Aziraphale perfectly.

Aziraphale was an angel, she didn’t _like_ to sleep. She was fussy and anxious and needed her space to read her books and be in quiet. Sharing a bed and all that entailed was nothing she would be comfortable with.

Crowley loved affection, yes, but she still had days where she couldn’t stand touch. Whether it reminded her of Downstairs or elsewhere or if she was in too much pain. The pressure, too, of trying to be someone she wasn’t filled her with a mild panic every time she thought Aziraphale might want something… different.

Her angel was quick to assure her that she was perfectly happy with how things were, thank you very much. She would kiss the top of Crowley’s head or give her a warm smile on days like that. Most importantly she was there, for all of their good and bad days.

They could do what they wanted to, now. They both spent a lot of time reminding the other that that was the case. So Crowley could want to cuddle and not share a bed and be called Aziraphale’s partner, not wife or girlfriend. They told one another of their love on occasion, but most of the time it didn’t need to be said. It was simply obvious.

And if Crowley wanted to grow Aziraphale roses because they made her happy, because they made her smile, because they made her say “oh, _Crowley”_ in that awe-filled soft voice of hers and fuss with wrapping her in a blanket and worrying about her joints in the cold?

Crowley was going to grow the roses, societal expectations be damned.


	14. Delicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Day 15] Attraction was a strange thing that Crowley hadn’t thought too much about before she and Aziraphale had properly shacked up together. [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strong aesthetic/sensual attraction and activities in this one, nudity

Attraction was a strange thing that Crowley hadn’t thought too much about before she and Aziraphale had properly shacked up together. Everything she had ever felt was for the angel anyway, which Aziraphale had declared “flattering” and “sweet” in turn, setting Crowley’s face aflame.

Aziraphale, ever the bibliophile that she was, preferred categorising her experiences. Sectioning them off into neat boxes and clearly labelled divisions. It didn’t work like that for Crowley. She felt a lot - too much, sometimes - and the only clear thing in that equation was that her true north was Aziraphale.

That meant it had been a bit of an uphill battle as Crowley was encouraged to _talk_ about her _feelings_ to ensure that they were on ‘the same page’, because of course Aziraphale couldn’t resist a literary metaphor even in the midst of Crowley dying of embarrassment.

But wine and smushing her face into the side of Aziraphale’s neck helped her courage and eventually Crowley became more practiced at stating what she wanted.

So that was how she found herself strewn over the angel one afternoon, Aziraphale dressed only in pants and about to start on the covered plate of delicacies Crowley had arranged for her. Crowley was more covered up in a satin romper. She liked how the fabric felt like water against her skin.

But it wasn’t about the food, for Crowley. She simply got a very large thrill out of Aziraphale enjoying herself, and food was one of the greatest sources of that.

She may also have a thing for Aziraphale’s tits but could you blame her? She was only a demon, after all.

Aziraphale reached down and cupped Crowley’s cheek as she beamed at her. Crowley had to close her eyes under the attention and all but purred as Aziraphale’s hand moved to stroke her shaved head.

“Shall we begin, my darling?” She murmured.

Crowley nodded and clutched tighter at Aziraphale’s thigh.


	15. Secret [E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Day 17] Aziraphale shifted and crossed her legs tighter as she sat tucked away in the corner of the theatre lounge. [Explicit sexual content]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex toy use in public, D/s elements, safe word use

Aziraphale shifted and crossed her legs tighter as she sat tucked away in the corner of the theatre lounge. Crowley had used a miracle to get the other patrons to ignore the convenient table which hid her movements - the rest were forced to stand at those awful cocktail tables dotted around the room.

It wasn’t the first time one of them had ventured out into a public place with a secret like this. Crowley had gotten her all hot and heavy before they left for the show and slipped the vibrator into Aziraphale without granting her any relief. It had been that wonderful sensation of too much and not quite enough at the time. All the way over in the Bentley, too, as every bump and corner made the buzzing toy known inside of her. But as Aziraphale sat at the table, forced to appear decent with a cocktail in hand, the pleasure from the sensation started to fade.

She shifted again, hoping that the movement would rekindle her arousal instead of the growing numbness she was beginning to feel. Crowley quirked an eyebrow at her despite the dark glasses and Aziraphale gave what she hoped was a comforting smile.

Crowley’s hand slipped down to stroke at Aziraphale’s thigh. “How is my angel doing?”

“Fine, my dear.”

The hand stopped. “Fine, angel?”

“Well, yes, Crowley, I-”

“Aziraphale. Give me a colour,” Crowley ordered, not unkindly.

Her brain overrode her her tongue and the true answer slipped out. “Yellow.”

Crowley nodded and took the cocktail from Aziraphale’s hand and placed it on the table.

“Tell me.”

Aziraphale squirmed again, this time because of the singular focus of the demon next to her. She knew she could speak up at any time. She knew she should say what was wrong. But there still remained some guilt whenever their games were paused or ended, no matter how reassuring Crowley was.

Aziraphale looked ahead of her instead of meeting Crowley’s eyes. “I’m afraid that although at first the sensation was pleasurable it has now become… numbing.”

Crowley reached into her pocket and then suddenly the buzzing stopped. “Good girl,” she praised as she shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss against Aziraphale’s cheek. “Anything else?”

Aziraphale shook her head. Other than the toy, she felt fine.

“Shall we move somewhere more… private, to remove it?”

Aziraphale swallowed tightly but nodded all the same.

* * *

Soon enough the pair were locked in the ladies bathroom with Aziraphale deposited on the wide space of counter usually reserved for powdering one’s nose. Crowley stood between her spread legs, hands carefully rested on Aziraphale’s dimpled knees.

“Did you want to take it out, angel?”

“Ah, no, no thank you,” she replied. Although the toy no longer held appeal, the position they were now in did make Aziraphale crave Crowley’s hands on her.

“Oh?” Crowley said with a smirk as her dominant hand dipped under the fabric of Aziraphale’s hem. “Are you feeling a little better now?”

Aziraphale had to stop herself from instinctively closing her legs at the teasing sensation. “It appears so,” she said breathlessly.

Crowley’s hand crept higher.


	16. Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Day 18] "I can't believe you forgot about these," Crowley moaned from where she lay on the bed. [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> naked feeling up in this one

"I can't believe you forgot about these," Crowley moaned from where she lay on the bed. "I've been missing out."

Aziraphale turned one way and then the other as she examined herself in their large mirror. "You know the French style hasn't been in fashion for decades."

"That never stopped you before," grumbled Crowley.

Aziraphale pursed her lips. "Shall I take them off then?"

"No!" Crowley stumbled to stand and plastered herself onto Aziraphale's back. "Definitely not."

Her hands just happened to find a resting place on Aziraphale’s breasts. Aziraphale rolled her eyes at her wife but she didn't remove them.

"Oh, what about this?" With a snap her clothing again. The French knickers were replaced with split drawers. Although they covered more of her legs, the opening in the middle meant Crowely would have much easier access. Whenever she noticed that detail, that is.

Aziraphale wasn't sure if she started turning or if Crowley spun her around but her back was to the mirror and they were quickly pressed together. Ever the opportunist, Crowleys hands slid down, one to cup Aziraphale’s large bum and the other to dance along the edge of the slit.

"Yessss," Crowley hissed and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. "Beautiful, angel." Another kiss to her neck.

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut under the ministrations. "I think I might - ah! - have to play dress up more often."

"If you need any… _reminders,_ I'm your girl," Crowley murmured.


	17. Note [E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Day 19] Dearest Crowley... [Explicit sexual content]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexting, the Aziraphale way

_Dearest Crowley,_

_I miss you. I know I only left this morning for the auction, but I miss you. Always, whenever we are separated._

_The hotel is nice I’m sure - thank you for booking it for me. I look forward to the bath, and to the large bed, even if you won’t be in it._

_On the topic of beds, I hope this note can keep you warm even if I cannot. Do remember to rug up in the evenings, dear. I know how cold you get._

_I know you’d rather me not say it but I do find it endearing just how chilly you get. Your cold feet tangled between my legs. Your hard nipples peaked against your shirt._

_I bet you didn’t expect that turn, did you? I assure you I can still be full of surprises, even after all these centuries. Yes, darling, the cold suits you, even if you do not suit it._

_I prefer to imagine you warm, however. Hot, even. Enough to strip bear in our room, in our bed. All of your lovely scales and skin on display for me. For me to touch and taste; to savour._

_Are you touching yourself, yet? This latest cock phase of yours I’m sure makes the situation at hand even more obvious. I hope you are. You have my permission, after all._

_I can promise you I’ll be doing much of the same as soon as I’m back in my hotel. I know I was already dressed when you awoke - that was for good reason. I am challenging you to guess as to what I’m wearing underneath my clothing. Or perhaps I’m wearing nothing at all?_

_And the prize if you guess correctly, well. Shall I send you a photograph when I do make it back to my room? Me, bringing myself to climax at the thought of you alone? It wouldn’t be the first time._

_I hope this is enough to tide you over until this evening._

_All my love,_

_Aziraphale_


	18. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Day 24] “...your wife?”  
> Aziraphale blinked out of her stupor and dropped her hand from where she had been playing with her necklace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY AROMANTIC SPECTRUM AWARENESS WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CAN I GET A WAHOO??

“...your wife?”

Aziraphale blinked out of her stupor and dropped her hand from where she had been playing with her necklace.

“Pardon me, I didn’t quite catch that last bit?”

June smiled at her and repeated the question. “I wondered where your wife was. It seems you too are attached at the hip, these days!”

“My wife?”

The smiled slipped. “Yes?” A look of horror crossed June’s face. “Oh dear, your spouse, is it? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No, no, dear, it’s not _that._ Well. It is and it isn’t. Nevertheless, Crowley and I are not married.”

Whatever would have given her charge that impression?

June nervously picked at the fuzz on her jumper. “I mean, it’s all semantics these days anyway, abolishing institutions and all that jazz. What do you call each other, then?”

Aziraphale truly didn’t understand what the woman was implying. “Friends?”

June’s hand stopped. “But you live together.”

Oh. It was _that_ kind of confusion the human was operating under. It finally clicked in Aziraphale's mind. “Indeed. Much easier than her driving back and forth between Mayfair. Goodness, you should have seen her flat! My books make for a much better interior, I think.”

“But she calls you angel?”

Aziraphale smiled to herself. “Yes. An old nickname, one might say.”

June crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve seen you kiss! More than once! You don’t exactly hide being wrapped up in one another.

“You’ve certainly outdone yourself with observation, it seems.”

“Alright, what would _you_ call your relationship then? If you’re apparently _not_ married but you're so obviously committed to each other, what is it?”

The angel looked up and offered her a wry look. “I would say it’s rather… ineffable.”


	19. Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Day 26] Despite the grainy photo on Angel’s website, Crowley still had expected to meet some toned, waifish woman at least ten years her junior. [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> human AU, Aziraphale is a sex worker, Angel is Aziraphale's work name. this is actually a teaser of a fic I'm working on! if you like aspec characters, gender feels and explorations of intimacy, stay tuned :)

Despite the grainy photo on Angel’s website, Crowley still had expected to meet some toned, waifish woman at least ten years her junior. More fool her, she supposed, for making such an assumption. Still, Angel was _definitely_ a surprise, in all her butch glory and somewhat conservative (yet no less attractive) clothes.

Her tan trousers were snug around her thick thighs. They weren’t tight, necessarily, but tailored. Fit. She was wearing an honest to god waistcoat over a long sleeved shirt, the sleeves of which had been rolled up to reveal her pale forearms. Angel’s hair was a tightly cropped collection of almost-white curls - the colour of which somehow glowed in the light of the doorway. She wasn’t wearing any makeup as far as Crowley could tell, although that didn’t mean much, and her expression was open and warm as she regarded Crowley. She appeared strong but soft in a way that made Crowley want to curl up in her arms and be petted. Or lifted off the ground and thrown onto a bed. Perhaps both.

Crowley blinked and realised Angel had obviously said something and was waiting for her to respond. It would help if she had heard it over the rush of blood in her ears.

“Er, sorry, what was that?”

Angel only continued to smile at her. “I said, are you Crowley? My two o’clock?”

Christ, her voice was posh and perfectly aesthetically aligned as well. “Yeah, um. That’s me.” God, she was making a right tit of herself.

“Wonderful,” Angel beamed and Crowley felt her face flush. This was the happiest anyone had ever been to see her. She knew she was paying but Angel must be good to make it feel so real. Her delight felt so genuine. 

“Won’t you come in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that wraps up my Femslash February collection! I've loved sharing these ficlets this month, especially as I haven't written heaps of femslash before this (hopefully this will change in future). Please do go check out the other fics and art folks have made. Have a very happy rest of Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week and chag Purim sameach!

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ineffable-anathema. share the fics [here](https://ineffable-anathema.tumblr.com/tagged/fff/chrono)


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